


sine memoria

by BlackJacketsandPens



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Amnesia AU, F/M, Gen, amnesia ardyn the weird uncle, inspired by kubo and the 2 strings!!! tbh, specifically beetle bc like. yes.
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-16
Updated: 2017-08-27
Packaged: 2018-11-01 07:45:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,646
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10917429
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlackJacketsandPens/pseuds/BlackJacketsandPens
Summary: "Purpose is but the slave to memory."-- William ShakespeareThey say the Scourge steals memories. What if it stole those of the Accursed? How would the destiny of the Chosen King change without his enemy -- if instead they were his friend?(AU in which Amnesia Ardyn is a thing, basically.)





	1. Prologue

They say that the Scourge steals memories. That as the curse of the Infernian runs black through your veins it devours your memories, names and faces, one by one until all you know is the pain -- and then it makes you a monster.

He hadn’t put much stock in that -- he didn’t need to. It was hubris, in retrospect, but he was the Healer King. He had saved hundreds, _thousands_ from the Scourge. Why worry too much about the symptoms when he was saving them all? No one would have to worry soon enough.

Even if he was sickening himself, even if his body was flush with fever or racked with pain and fatigue -- he’d be fine. He was the king, after all, the second King of Lucis. He’d be fine. There wasn’t a need to worry.

Oh, how wrong he was.

It was foolishness, pure foolishness to have done this -- to think he could end the Scourge himself. No matter how much he distrusted the responsibility the gods delegated to humans (why choose mortals to fix what the Astrals had broken, when the Astrals could fix it themselves?), no matter how much he wanted to save his beloved, his Oracle, the fate of her mother to weaken and die young...he was still a fool.

A blind fool, too, to have never seen it coming. He’d raised his little brother since their parents had died, since he’d taken the throne at twenty when Izunia wasn’t yet ten. He’d _raised_ him. How could he have not seen the jealousy, see the envy, see the bitterness grow and fester until like a volcano it erupted and the ensuing avalanche tore it all apart.

His Oracle -- his Stella, his lover, his _everything_ \-- she died first, on her beloved’s own blade when she tried to stop blood from killing blood, his sword piercing her chest before he could stop his momentum.

He was taken away then, locked within black walls upon a desolate island, and through the thin window he heard the guards posted whispering. Heard them talk of his friends, his comrades, his brothers by choice. Gilgamesh, his brave and loyal Shield -- pursued alongside the rest of the loyal soldiers into the Amicitia training grounds, where they were slaughtered to a man. Mercutio, the commoner who had become his dearest companion -- killed in the streets like a dog. Pyrrhus, his clever, considerate advisor -- blinded and likely left to rot in a prison somewhere.

Everything gone, just like that. One by one, until the Healer King was alone save for the gods. And then, even the gods turned on him. Watched in silence as a guard brought the blade down upon his neck, and then barred him from the afterlife. Even though he’d earned it with every life he’d saved, the impurity that coiled in his veins made him unclean. _Unworthy_.

A _daemon_ , no less a monster than the ones hunted in the night, no less an abomination.

In the centuries that followed, the Healer King -- no, not anymore; just _Ardyn_ \-- grew bitter, grew cold, grew hard and harsh with the years of solitude, the years of unending pain, the years of watching the world change and move on and forget him. His brother, his brother’s son, that king’s son, and so on. The line moved on, king after king, and history forgot.

History forgot his daughter, too, the daughter he’d never known he’d had until she was presented to the world as the third Oracle. She lived and died young, hardly two decades in Ardyn’s increasingly long life, and the world forgot her quickly. In the endless parade of Caelums and Fleurets, what was one life? What did any individual king or Oracle mean to the world, to the gods? _Nothing_. They were all just replaceable pawns in a chess game spanning millennia, expendable and unimportant until the Chosen King was born. And then _that_ king, too, would die for the gods.

In any other circumstances, Ardyn might have taken that bitterness, that growing ball of hatred and thirst for revenge, and turned it upon the world. The father of magitek, the Chancellor, the Accursed. He might have waited, biding his time and cultivating war, and then hunted the young Chosen like a cat stalking a quartet of mice. He might have killed the Oracle.

But that is not what happens here.

What happens is the Scourge begins to chip away at his memories, piece by piece. First goes names, then faces. The past slips away, tumbling further out of his grasp the more years that pass by him. Even as he claws for it in the panic of someone losing the one last thing he had, it fades. 

What happens is that one day a man wakes to find that he cannot even recall his own name, or why he has come to be sleeping where he is, beneath a tree in the Lucian countryside. He cannot recall much of anything, in fact.

In the three centuries that follow, the man learns several things about himself -- first, that he is sick with something that scares people, that turns most into monsters called daemons but only seems to make him chronically ill, otherwise leaving him unharmed. Second, that he cannot die no matter what happens to him, no matter the injury or what . And third, that he can summon weapons from thin air, a trick that no one else seems to be able to do.

He learns to keep these three things secret. He doesn’t linger anywhere too long, takes medicine to curb the visible symptoms of his illness, and covers himself to keep the sun from irritating his sensitive skin. He stays away from anything too dangerous, teaches himself what would kill a normal man so he knows the limits he must pretend to have. He carries a knife and later a gun in his coat, so he doesn’t have to call any of the larger, better weapons that lurk always at his fingertips.

But mostly he avoids people -- they’ll have questions he can’t answer. Instead, he keeps to the dirt roads and wilderness, stopping in towns and at gas stations every so often to buy necessities. He helps travelers, sometimes, rescuing them from beasts or daemons, but doesn’t linger, doesn’t speak to them.

Something is missing, he knows it -- but he doesn’t know what, and after all this time, he isn’t sure he’ll _ever_ know. 

\----------

Meanwhile, the world marches on around him.

Though the father of magitek does not bring the Empire the knowledge of daemons -- they still puzzle it out, albeit later than they would have otherwise. It takes them longer, and there are many more failures, but their monstrous infantrymen become reality.

(And a young test subject, genetically altered but human to the blood and bone -- a failure to be disposed of -- is spirited out of the laboratories, taken somewhere safe to grow up a normal boy, a normal young man, blond and freckled and, eventually, _important_.)

It is another man that brings the ceasefire to King Regis Lucis Caelum, a smug brigadier general -- and it is the Emperor’s whim that his son be married to the Oracle, a political union between the last holdout of independence and an annexed kingdom, another shackle upon Lucis’s hands.

The son leaves the capital, the capital falls, the king dies, and the Chosen King is set upon the path, the Oracle walking ahead to pave the way.

And perhaps it all would have come to pass similarly, were it not for a chance meeting

The Chosen King and the man who has forgotten everything -- what will happen to their destinies in the future to come? 


	2. Chapter 1

It was the late afternoon when Noctis and the others finally stumbled out of the waterfall cave, Royal Arm in hand -- or rather, Armiger. Same difference, Noctis supposed. It wasn’t really on the top of his list of things to worry about. That award went to the migraine...vision... _things_ he kept having, that told him nothing that made sense but hurt like a son of a bitch. Hell, the last one he’d had was a good ten or fifteen minutes ago now, and he was still seeing spots.

He let out a sigh and leaned against a rock on their way back down the path that would take them back to the road and the Regalia, and the other three stopped.

“You okay, Noct?” Prompto asked, jogging back over with a frown.

Noctis waved him off. “Fine,” he reassured him. “Don’t worry.” He could tell none of the others believed him, though, but he stood anyway -- if just so Gladio wouldn’t pick him up. He was pretty sure he’d basically die of embarrassment if his Shield carried him to the car. “Let’s get back to Lestallum before it gets dark, yeah?”

Ignis sighed, clearly exasperated with his prince but unable to argue with his point. “Yes,” he agreed. “It is a bit of a drive, so if we’d like to make it there by nightfall, we should hurry.”

Noctis stood and the quartet kept going, though Prompto hovered by the prince anyway -- just in case, probably. Noctis didn’t mind, though; out of the other three, Prompto was the one that wouldn’t force things if he was worried, he’d just... _be_ there. He loved all three of the guys, but sometimes Prompto was his favorite, just because he didn’t have the additional responsibility of Shield or advisor -- he didn’t need to think about him as ‘the prince’, so he was...different. In a good way, obviously.

As they approached the U the path made, turning from the river to head back up the slope to the road, Noctis was lost in thought -- until he walked right into Gladio’s arm. “Noct, _stop_ ,” the other hissed, and Noct shook himself back to the present and gaped at what was in front of them.

“Hoooly shit,” Prompto murmured, fumbling for his camera. _“That_ is a really big snake.”

And it was, too. The serpent towered over the four of them, coiled as it was right in the middle of the road. Its head was hooded like a cobra’s, draped across itself as if it was resting, basking in the afternoon sunlight. Its eyes were open, though, and Noctis could see the tongue darting out of its mouth every so often, flicking to taste the air.

“Does it know we’re here?” He whispered to the others, elbowing Prompto. The blond got the message and turned off the flash before he took his pictures, though the older two boys winced every time the shutter clicked as if it were the sound of an avalanche.

“Sure hope not,” Gladio muttered, shooting a look at Prompto before returning his gaze to the beast. “Damn, why’d it pick the middle of the friggin’ road to take a nap…”

“How are we gonna get past it?” Prompto asked, his own whisper a fraction shriller than Noctis’s. “I really hate snakes...I mean, not as much as bugs, but. Still _pre-tty_ high up there on the list…”

Ignis glanced around. “We could cut through the scrub here,” he said quietly, gesturing at the tangled brush off the side of the road. “The path doubles back, so a straight line through would take us right past the serpent.” He paused, looking over at Noctis. “That would, though, depend on if you’re up to such uneven terrain, Noct.”

Noctis glanced at the brush and winced. Damn his stupid bum leg...it was fine most of the time, but he couldn’t run very long, and the rougher the ground the more he’d end up hurting later. He figured he could pull it off, but he’d just banged his leg around in the grotto, and on top of the lingering headache…

“Yeah,” he said anyway, shrugging. “I can handle it.” It was a half-truth, honestly, but he didn’t want to say ‘no’ and sound whiny -- especially when he couldn’t think of any other way past the snake besides fighting it, and he was pretty sure they were all too exhausted to take this thing on. Well, that and it was really, _really_ big. None of them had ever taken on something this big.

Apparently he’d taken too long to respond, though, because Gladio frowned. “If you can’t handle it,” he began. “I can carry--”

“No,” Noctis insisted. “No way. I _got_ this, let’s go.” Before the others could protest, he vaulted over the small rock on the path’s left and started to hike through the scrub. After a moment the others followed, and Noctis didn’t look back. His knee was already complaining, but he wasn’t going to slow down, no way. He wasn’t about to be all weak and-- and _handicapped_ , or whatever. Maybe it was a little selfish, but he wasn’t going to let his damn leg stop him, not ever. Those months in a wheelchair and spending all those days sitting out gym class and _knowing_ Gladio was going easy on him...that had been enough.

They only managed to get halfway, though, before the apparently terminal bad luck of the royal line struck them. In climbing over a cluster of stones, Noctis’s knee gave out and he slipped. His other foot caught the stones in just the right way to loosen them from their already precarious position, and both prince and rocks lost their balance and fell -- very loudly -- down the slope, and right towards the path.

“Noct!” Prompto yelled, already scrambling after him. Thankfully he wasn’t too badly hurt, except for his knee refusing to let him put weight on it and a few bruises, but that really wasn’t the problem. 

“Oh, shit,” Noctis muttered from his spot sprawled on the ground, staring up at the snake as it uncoiled itself, head rising to stare down at the warm bit of prey that had tumbled down in front of it. “Uh...sorry for waking you up?”

“Noct, _run!”_ Gladio shouted, he and the others tearing down the slope towards him, weapons in hand. Prompto was already shooting, but whatever bullets grazed the snake only served to make it angrier.

“I can’t get up!” Noct shouted back, calling his sword to his hand anyway. If he could just warp out of the way--

In that instant, three things happened in quick succession.

First, the snake lunged straight down, fast as a lightning strike, its fangs bared as it prepared to take a bite out of its conveniently delivered dinner. Second, Noctis felt himself grabbed around the middle by a pair of arms almost as fast, and he let out a startled yelp, grabbing whatever it was with his free hand. And thirdly, he felt the familiar tingle of warping, and next thing he knew he and whoever it was holding him were several feet down the path, the snake banging its head against the dirt where he’d been.

“Noct!” Prompto shrieked. 

“I’m over here!” He yelled back, slowly realizing that it was a _person_ holding him around the waist, Noctis’s arm latched around their shoulders. “I’m fine!”

“This way!” The stranger called, their voice a bit hoarse. “It can dive underground, we’ll need to get back to the road!” Their voice lowered, Noctis noticing that they had a very faint accent, unfamiliar but also somehow...not. “Can you walk?”

Noctis flushed. “N-No,” he admitted quietly. “My knee gave out, it’s pretty much useless for a while.”

The stranger didn’t laugh, to his credit, or scold him. “Right then,” they said instead. “Hold on.” Noctis dismissed his sword and wrapped his other arm around their shoulders, his head ending up tucked in the crook of their neck. It was embarrassing, Noctis decided, as the stranger shifted their hold to carry him properly, _really_ embarrassing. But...there was something weirdly familiar about them that almost made it tolerable. 

With his head on the stranger’s shoulder, he could see the other three following behind down the path, Prompto in the lead and running so fast Noctis almost thought he was about to faceplant. After him was Ignis, and Gladio brought up the rear, his greatsword balanced on his shoulder as he watched behind them for the snake. Eventually -- with a yelp -- he realized the stranger had finally hit the concrete steps up to the road, and he closed his eyes. Okay, being carried up stairs was awful, he decided. Never again.

The stranger put him down on the concrete area of the parking spot and stepped away, then, and Noctis turned to get a good look at the person who’d saved his ass.

It was an older man, maybe about Cor’s age, with a mop of messy hair the color of wine. He was kind of scruffy, Noctis noted, and looked a bit like a hobo -- he wore a black peacoat over a grey cardigan, a dark blue vest, and a black shirt, way more layers than even Noctis would feel comfortable with in this weather, and a slightly worn red scarf. In fact, all of his clothing seemed a bit worn-out and frayed around the edges, and his boots were more scuff mark than actual boot. He noticed Noctis watching him catch his breath and turned to face him, revealing honey-brown eyes and a face lined with exhaustion, and smiled before turning towards the rest of the group as they reached the top of the stairs.

“You should be a bit more careful,” the man scolded lightly. “All the hunters in the area know the Midgardsormr spends most of its time around the waterfall. What were you boys doing out there?”

“I don’t think that’s any of your business,” Gladio said, and Noctis opened his mouth to tell his Shield off-- but Gladio continued, and Noctis stopped with his mouth still open. “How the hell did you do that? You _warped_. Who are you?”

Noctis blinked, and looked over at the man, whose eyes had widened a little in surprise. He’d-- he’d warped? Noctis had thought he’d done that, but-- this guy had? That wasn’t possible. Only the kings could do that, and Noctis didn’t know how to do whatever his father had done with the Kingsglaive. And even if this guy _had_ been a glaive, they wouldn’t be able to do that anymore after...after his father had died. There’s no way he could warp.

“I’m afraid I can’t answer either of your questions,” the man said with a little shrug, but then held his hands up placatingly. “Not because I don’t want to, mind!” He added hurriedly. “I would be more than happy to tell you everything I know, if I knew anything. But unfortunately I don’t. Know anything, that is.” The man laughed, seemingly either oblivious to the four boy’s staring or not caring about it. “And I mean _anything,_ I’m afraid.”

Prompto shook himself off first, shuffling forward. “You mean anything like, uh-- like amnesia?” He asked, bewildered. “Like hit-your-head, total blank amnesia?”

The man laughed again, shaking his head. “If amnesia means that I have no memories of who I am, then yes, exactly that,” he said, sounding much too cheerful about that. “ _Total blank_ , as you put it. Not even my own name, which I’ll admit causes a great deal of trouble with introductions.”

Noctis could tell Gladio and Ignis were still suspicious, but for some reason he...wasn’t? There was something weirdly familiar about the man, even if he was incredibly strange. He gestured to Prompto, who came over and helped him up, and studied the man a little more closely. He was tall, about Gladio’s height, and broad-shouldered, though it was hard to tell how much of that was him and how much of it were the layers of clothing padding him out. “So you don’t know how you warped?” He asked, and the man’s attention turned back to him.

“Is that what you call it?” He asked, genuinely curious. “The, ah--” He gestured with his hands, holding one palm flat and using his other hand to make a leaping motion off the palm. “--towards one’s weapon? What I did to get you out of harm’s way?” Noctis nodded. “No, then, I don’t. Just that I _can_.”

Gladio frowned, and Noctis recognized his expression as fast heading into the territory of ‘overprotective Shield’ mode, but he ignored it to keep asking questions. “Can you, uh-- do anything else weird like that?” He asked. “For example, summoning weapons? Or using magic?”

“Noct, what--?” Ignis began, but turned back to the man when he answered. 

“Yes!” He said, eyes lighting up in surprised happiness. “Yes, both of those.” 

“Show me,” Noctis said, and the man held out a hand, allowing a dagger to appear in it. The light was the same as when Noctis summoned his own weapon, motes and streaks flickering the weapon into being and around the man’s hand -- only this was a sort of pinkish-red rather than the blue that surrounded Noctis. Either way, it was unmistakably Lucian.

“Noct, I thought--” Prompto began, but trailed off at the look Gladio gave him.

“Yeah,” Noctis answered, ignoring the fact that he knew the other two would be annoyed. “Look, you know normal people can’t do any of that, right?”

The man nodded. “Of course I do,” he said, amused. “I don’t spend all that much time in civilization, but I’ve picked up a thing or two, and my ‘talents’ being...rare, I suppose, was one of them. And before you ask, I’m not normally silly enough to reveal them to just anyone.” He paused. “You were in trouble, though,” he said, more serious. “I couldn’t see any reason _not_ to.”

“Your intervention is greatly appreciated,” Ignis admitted. “Thank you for helping us.” It was his turn to look at the others, taking in Gladio’s open suspicion, Noctis’s stubborn expression, and Prompto’s curiosity, and sighing. “In return, it’s the very least we can do to give you information it seems you’re sorely in need of, in regards to your, ah... _talents_.”

“Ignis,” Gladio said warningly, but the advisor shook his head.

“Gladio, he saved Noct’s life despite knowing we would most likely be suspicious in seeing his abilities,” Ignis pointed out. “And he’s been as honest as he can be with us.”

“Still don’t trust him,” the Shield muttered, but sighed. “But whatever. You do you, Iggy.”

“I don’t mind that,” the man said with a laugh. “Your distrust, I mean. You must have your work cut out for you, worrying about these boys so much...Gladio, was it?”

Gladio grunted, but Noctis could see he was a little gratified at the praise. “Yeah,” he said. “He’s Gladio, that’s Ignis, this is Prompto, and I’m Noctis.” He paused, taking a breath. “Noctis Lucis Caelum, actually -- the prince of Lucis.”

The man looked genuinely startled at that. “My, I’m in the presence of _royalty?”_ He asked. “No wonder your companions are so concerned.” He smiled. “Should I bow? You don’t seem like the type for formality, I’ll admit, but...I’m rather at a loss for the proper behavior.”

“Please don’t bow,” Noctis said with a laugh. “ _Please_.” Prompto snorted at that and Noctis elbowed him, the pair of boys chuckling a little before Noctis grew serious. “But, uh-- the reason I brought that us is ‘cause, uh...the stuff you can do? I can do it, too. And normally _only_ the royal family can do it.”

The man blinked, and then let out a soft gasp of realization, eyes widening. “Do you mean--?”

“I dunno,” Noctis admitted. “I mean, you’re younger than my dad, but older than me, and I know my dad and I were the only members of the line left, so….there’s that, but...I can’t think of anything else. And you don’t know either, so...”

The man fell silent for a long moment, crossing his arm as if lost in thought. “What is the prince doing so far from home?” He asked finally. “I recall hearing fragments on the radio, something about the Empire and the capital…”

“Yeah,” Noctis said quietly. “Insomnia fell. I’m...supposed to be heading to Altissia to meet Luna-- to meet the Oracle, but in the meantime…” He summoned the Royal Arm he’d just retrieved, the Swords of the Wanderer, the weapon in its combined form settling in his hand. “I’m supposed to be collecting these, the weapons of past kings. This one was in the cave behind that waterfall.”

It was hard to miss the look on the man’s face, a brief flash of something like shock and pain before it settled into something unreadable. “The weapons of past kings,” he repeated. “Why do you need them?”

“He’s the Chosen King,” Ignis supplied. “Though we have little idea what that means in practice, the legends all say he’s meant for greatness.”

There was quiet for a moment, before the man spoke again, his word seeming to startle even himself. _“When darkness veils the world, the King of Light shall come,”_ he said quietly, before blinking as if coming out of a trance. “I...don’t know how I know that. But it sounds familiar.”

“Yeah,” Noctis said. “That’s me. Not really sure what I’m supposed to do beyond ‘save the world from the Scourge’ or whatever, but...I’m making do one step at a time, I guess.”

The man leaned against the guardrail, watching the four of them for a moment. “This all sounds familiar,” he repeated. “And -- forgive me for thinking aloud -- it’s...I’ve always had the sense that I’ve been waiting for something, though I can’t for the life of me remember what. It’s...something like watching the clouds darken and waiting for the storm you know is coming, but not quite knowing when it will come. It might be presumptuous of me, but...I think this -- or rather, _you_ \-- is what I’ve been waiting for.”

Noctis and the others exchanged a look, Noctis returning the Swords to his Armiger. He couldn’t lie -- there was something familiar about the man, too. Maybe it was just that he was somehow related to him, somehow had royal blood, but...even if it were just _that_ , it meant that this amnesiac weirdo was family. He knew Gladio was still suspicious, even if Ignis was willing to go out on a limb, but…

“Uh, guys?” Prompto put in, the first he’d really spoken in a while. “I know it’s pretty heavy talk and all, and I dunno what you guys wanna do about him, but-- it’s getting dark.” He pointed up with his free hand, and the rest of the group looked up at the sky, the afternoon sun already beginning to shift to the red-orange light of sunset. “Maybe we can talk about this after we get back to Lestallum?”

The man frowned slightly. “Lestallum?” He asked. “That’s...the town near Cauthess, yes? I can’t say I’ve ever been there. I try to avoid larger cities, generally, but I’ll accompany you if that’s where you’re staying, given...” He paused. “That is, if you’ll let me?”

“Yeah,” Noctis said before Gladio could interrupt or say no. “Prompto can squish into the backseat of the Regalia with me and Gladio.”

Prompto shrugged. “Fine with me!” He said. “I mean, I’ve been squished worse…then again, though, Shield stank is probably hella bad. I call not middle!”

“Don’t make me sit on you next time we camp, Prompto,” Gladio said with a laugh as the group headed down the road to where the Regalia sat. “I’ll show you _Shield stank_.”

The man laughed along with them, Noctis noted as Prompto helped him back to the car. For someone without his memories, he seemed...at peace, strangely enough. Or at least in a surprisingly good mood. People with amnesia weren’t like that in the movies, but then again, they were movies. Maybe it was different. Or maybe his good mood was because he’d found something that might answer his questions…?

Well, whatever the case, was it really important? Probably not. 

The group piled into the car, the stranger in the front passenger seat while the other three squished into the back, Prompto squealing with laughter as Gladio dramatically lifted his arm as if shoving the blond’s head into his armpit. Noctis yelped and leaned against the car door, laughing as well, pushing against Gladio.

“C’mon, man, quit it,” he said with a grin. “Don’t embarrass us.”

The man laughed. “Oh, don’t worry. I won’t think less of a group of young men for acting like a group of young men,” he teased them. “Don’t mind me.”

“Nooo,” Prompto moaned, though he was grinning. “Tell him to stop, he _smeeeeells_.”

The group laughed, and Noctis watched the man’s face. He really _did_ seem content, despite his lack of memories. Even so…well, questions could wait ‘til they got to Lestallum, he figured. Aside from the important stuff...he kind of wanted to know just how the guy could be so cheerful. Maybe take some advice.


	3. Chapter 2

The group just barely managed to pull into the Lestallum parking area as night fell -- much to their collective relief. Noctis, for one, definitely didn’t want to be out there in the dark. They’d run into daemons once or twice so far already in the highway tunnels, and that on top of the daemons in the caverns and tunnels they’d slogged through were _way_ more than enough. 

His leg was better at the very least, so he waved off Prompto’s offer of help with a grin and watched their new friend look around the place with an interested expression. 

“I’ve never entered the town before,” he admitted, hands in his coat pockets. “It’s a nice little place, isn’t it? Very well lit.”

“Yeah,” Gladio agreed, putting his hand on the man’s arm to steer him up the path towards the town proper and the Leville. “ _Well lit_. Keeps daemons away better, y’know?” Noctis frowned at his behavior, but knew he couldn’t stop him -- he was his Shield, and he’d be paranoid about the guy for a while. Until he proved himself above suspicion, well...well. It was annoying, but at least the man seemed to be a good sport about it.

“Of course!” He said, chuckling and waving a hand at the streetlights. “Far safer like this, I’m well aware. It must be hard to sleep with all of these lights about, though, or do you simply have heavier curtains?”

“Curtains!” Prompto said, skipping up to them with Noctis and Ignis at his heels. “At least, the hotel has ‘em. I think Noct would be committing mass streetlight murder if we didn’t.”

“Would _not_ ,” Noctis protested with a laugh, shaking his head. “Only the one shining into my room.”

The group all snorted, and Noctis tried to look annoyed -- he failed, though, and only shoved Prompto slightly with a grin. Even the man laughed. “You like a good night’s sleep, then?” He asked. “I can relate.”

“We _are_ related,” Noctis said with a grin, and again they laughed.

Talcott and Iris welcomed them back to the Leville happily, the little boy delighted to hear that his information had paid off. His grandfather, though, was more curious as to their new guest. Ignis explained that he had helped them on their way back from the grotto, and in turn the boys had offered him a ride and a place to stay, as he had neither of his own.

(And at this point they weren’t sure they could get rid of him -- in the interim of their speaking to Jared, the man had sat down next to Talcott and seemed to befriend him in moments, the two speaking at length about cactuars and other animals.)

Prompto eventually walked over, bending over to grin at the boy. “Hey, Talcott, I hate to steal your new friend, but we gotta talk to him for a bit. And besides, isn’t it bedtime?”

“Oh!” Talcott said, hopping to his feet. “Yeah! I wanna get up early tomorrow, ‘cause Iris said she’d show me some cool moves. G’night, guys! G’night, Your Highness!”

He scurried off, and Jared bid them a good night as well, leaving the boys -- and their guest -- to head up to their room. They all found seats on the beds and in the room’s chairs, and looked around at each other almost expectantly, waiting for one of them to start.

“So,” Ignis began, glancing over at their guest. “As you said, you have no recollection of who you are? Do you have any idea _how_ you lost your memory?”

The man hesitated a moment, frowning, and then shook his head. “I...no,” he said slowly. “Not that I can think of. I simply...woke up one morning, no idea where I was or how I got there, not to mention no idea _who_ I was. It was a little disorienting at first, I’ll admit, but...I’ve muddled through somehow.”

“That’s all you know?” Noctis asked, leaning his chin on his knees. “Just that you lost your memories and you can do Lucian magic?”

“Well, to be honest I didn’t even know that second part until recently,” the man said with a laugh. “I mean -- I knew I could do some odd things, but I didn’t know it was the unique talent of _royalty_. I certainly don’t...feel like royalty.”

“Don’t look like it, either,” Gladio said bluntly, and then shrugged when four pairs of eyes turned to look at him. “What? He looks like a homeless guy. And besides, most Lucian kings have Noct’s colors, right?”

Ignis nodded. “Yes,” he agreed. “But some of the earlier records of the line are...fuzzy at best, I’ll admit. Perhaps you are the last member of some...obscure branch line?”

“Could be,” the man agreed. “Your guess is as good as mine -- better, probably. But nonetheless, I assure you I’ve told you basically all I know. Now…” He tilted his head. “You said you four were searching for the old Kings’ weapons, and that Noctis here is the Chosen King?”

“Yeah,” Noctis said. “Like Ignis said earlier, too, we really don’t know what that means, but...we’re just kinda following along with where this stuff leads us. We eventually gotta head to Altissia, though.”

“You mentioned that,” the man noted. “I’ve heard of it, though I can’t say with any certainty that I’ve been there. You plan to meet….who? Luna, you said?”

Prompto nodded. “Yep!” He said. “Lady Lunafreya! She’s the Oracle, you probably heard of her on the radio at _least_ once.” He grinned mischievously. “Noct’s getting married~”

“Prompto!” Noctis yelped, reddening, and leaned over to shove the blond off the bed.

The man laughed. “Ooh, a marriage!” He said. “How lovely... _oh!”_ He blinked. “Yes, now that you mention that, I do think I heard about it on the radio. The Oracle, she...heals the sick, doesn’t she?”

“Mmhm,” Noctis agreed, smiling a little faintly. “She’s pretty great. I haven’t seen her in ages, and this isn’t _really/em > how I expected it to go, but...I’m looking forward to it.”_

__

The man leaned forward. “Well, let’s hope you get there safely. I’m sure the young lady is just as excited to see you.” He looked thoughtful, looking out the window and then back at the boys. “I know you only meant to repay me for my help earlier -- and if you truly don’t wish it I wouldn’t dream of imposing, but...might I accompany you? At least as far as Altissia, that is.” He sighed. “As I said, I’ve always felt like I was waiting for something, and now that I know I’m perhaps...related, in some fashion, to the royal line -- _your_ royal line -- I believe I’ve been waiting for you. I don’t have the faintest idea why or how or for what, but....the only way for me to find the answers is...with you.”

__

He was doing a pretty good job of not looking desperate, Noctis noted, but there was still something almost pleading about him all the same. Not that he could blame the guy; they -- Noctis himself -- might just be his first clue to his identity he’s had since he lost his memories. Not knowing who you are, not knowing _anything_...that’s a scary thought. And he’s connected to him somehow. He can’t just…

__

“Yeah,” he said, before anyone else could speak. “Yeah, you can come with us. I’d feel bad leaving you behind now -- you need answers about who you are just as much as I want answers about what I’m supposed to do, and you’re right: I kinda get the feeling it’s connected. It’ll kinda be squished in the Regalia, but I don’t mind. You guys?”

__

Ignis sighed. “Well, you are the prince here, Noctis,” he said dryly. “Far be it from me to argue. But all the same, I agree. I’d rather have him accompany us than simply leave him. I doubt his use of the royal magic is mere coincidence, and....” He shrugged. “An extra pair of hands is never amiss.” 

__

“I’m down!” Prompto added. “Gladio?”

__

The Shield rolled his eyes. “I can keep an eye on ‘im if he’s with us,” he muttered. “Fine with me.”

__

“I am right here,” the man pointed out with a chuckle. “But that’s alright. I can understand some suspicion. He _is_ royalty, after all -- you have every right to be cautious.” He smiled. “But I assure you, my friends, I mean _no_ harm. I just want answers.”

__

Gladio sighed, and Noct grinned. “Welcome aboard, then, uh--” He paused. “Shit. We need to be able to call you something. Don’t you have, like...a nickname you picked, something like that?”

__

“No, I’m afraid not,” the man admitted with a sheepish smile. “I don’t tend to interact with people much, so I never saw the need to come up with an alias. You’re free to coin a phrase, if you’d like. I’m not picky -- it’s just a name.”

__

The boys all looked at each other thoughtfully, trying to come up with something to call the man -- they needed _something_. It wasn’t his real name, of course, but anything would do besides ‘you’ or ‘that guy’. In the end it was Prompto came up with it, staring down at his camera.

__

“Nemo!” He said excitedly, and everyone turned to look at him. “I, uh-- it’s a brand name for some gaming stuff,” he admitted. “I remember Moogling it and one of the search results said it was Old Lucian for ‘nobody’. It’s...I mean, now that I say it out loud it’s kinda rude, but-- but it’s kinda fitting? ‘Cause you don’t...remember…?”

__

He trailed off, fidgeting nervously, and the man laughed. Prompto winced, but then peeked up. “I like it!” The man -- Nemo, now -- said. “It’s clever. And not rude at all, really, don’t you worry about that. Nemo...it’ll do quite nicely for now, I think.”

__

Prompto seemed pretty pleased at that, and Noctis was glad -- he knew the blond had confidence issues sometimes, and he was grateful that Nemo (ha, that _was_ pretty clever) had reassured him.

__

“Nemo, then,” Noctis agreed. “Well, it’s been a long day, and I’m more than ready to get some sleep, so...we’ll figure out what to do tomorrow?”

__

“Sounds like a plan,” Ignis said with a nod, standing. “Gladio and I will head to our room -- Nemo, I’m sure we can make you comfortable somewhere.”

__

He smiled. “Oh, don’t worry about me,” he said, standing. “I’ll find somewhere to sleep. I’m rather resourceful.”

__

“But...well, okay,” Noctis said, yawning. “See you tomorrow, guys.”

__

Tomorrow, they’d...he wasn’t sure. Something. Hopefully figure out what the hell the headaches were all about? He really wanted those to stop. Tomorrow, though. Right now, it was bedtime.

__

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's a bit short and boring, i know, it's not really much of a way to come back with a bang xD
> 
> but putting (most of; i know what you're not saying bud) their cards on the table is pretty important, as was, yknow, actually giving the guy a NAME so they - and the poor writer - don't have to say 'that guy' all the time.
> 
> don't worry -- next chapter is Titan, and HAHAHA HOO BOY shit finally happens.


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